Snow White 白雪姫
by thatonecrazyrose19
Summary: With a face as pale as the snow and hair as dark as pitch, she existed out of place and out of touch with the world. However, with one fateful meeting, she learned to live and to learn and to love with her own set of dwarves - not the typical kind. In fact, she was the dwarf among giants, among miracles - the seven of them.


I've wanted to write (and attempt to do) a fic in the third person for KnB.

So, this is about as far as I've gotten - it's a trial-run.

I hope you all enjoy, and tell me how I do. (It'll be a bit boring for now, but hey, maybe I'll make it more interesting as soon as a more concrete plot enters my brain.)

And, seeing as it's Christmas Eve where I am, I hope you all have a blessed Christmas!

{Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke, no matter how much I wish I did. I only own my OCs.}

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><p>Chapter 1: Fluttering Snowflakes<p>

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><p><em>Caress the one, the never-fading<em>  
><em>rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow<em>  
><em>Caress the one, the hiding amaranth<em>  
><em>In a land of the daybreak<em>  
><em>-<em>Nightwish_ -_ _Amaranth_

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><p>"Ayako! Ayako, where are you?!"<p>

A woman's voice. More specifically: A passive-aggressive woman's voice, clearly unused to the concept of being overly loud and egregiously distracting. Obviously, she disliked raising it up to the octave she had managed to reach.

It was her mother's voice. Perhaps that's why the middle sister felt the necessity to block it out with everything in her power. Headphones on; music on (a nice piano medley of Christmas carols); book out. The perfect kind of distractions. The ones that scream: "Let nothing bother you! Embrace the solitude and open your thoughts." Or, at least, that's what she was going for.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

Simple onomatopoeia. Three, quick rapts upon the door one after the other. Enough to show irrational thinking, paranoia and urgency. That was her mother. Exactly how she could describe her when she was panicking.

However, she simply ignored it by turning to the next page in her poetry book. It wasn't her problem whatsoever, so why should she care?

With a slight rattling, her mother fished the key from its location under the flower pot next to her room – roses. She loved her out-of-season blossoms.

In delight, her mother smiled and opened the door. Looks like the middle daughter was unsuccessful today.

Said daughter glanced up, laudably gave her mother a once-over and looked back down, relishing in a new line of beautiful poetry:

_izureni,_ / _utsukushisa ha kie / amasa wa awaku_

_[eventually, / the beauty will fade / the sweetness lost]_

She sighed, at peace. Anything would please her at this point.

And then said daughter realized her error, and ever-so-slowly, removed the headphones from her blue-black hair so that they rested respectfully around her pale neck. The poetry book was then placed carefully atop the small bedside post underneath the simple black lamp. Satisfied with her things, she paid attention to her mother.

With a slight eye-roll, Morine Ame looked at her daughter. "Yuki, where is Ayako?"

Yuki heard the concern in her voice, but chose to ignore it. "I'm not her caretaker. Ayako can go wherever she so desires. If she decided to run away, I'd let her."

Her mother flinched at the cold indifference. "You, so I heard, told her she could go and play with her friends. It's been four and a half hours. Now, where could she possibly be for that long? It's Christmas Eve, and I'm concerned."

Yuki pointed to the window, completely unfazed. Her mother looked over and saw the precipitation outside – snow. "They probably decided to build some snowmen, maybe a fort or two. They're children; they do that."

Despite her outward demeanor, Yuki decided to get up. She ambled toward the front of the home, put on a simple knitted-cap and her snow boots as well as her coat, a soft, white one, with tiny, smooth brown buttons – her older sister's hand-me-down, now wonderfully hers.

"I'll go get her."

And away, she walked into the blessed snow that she loved.

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><p>Yuki was a middle school student. She preferred to consider herself a run-of-the-mill, forced-to-go sort of a kid, but that wasn't the case. In fact, that was not the girl Yuki could even remotely resemble in a million years.<p>

People just didn't know who she was. She was quiet; she was serious; she was . . . scary. So, strange and often a little bit too interesting misconceptions grew around the girl that coexisted with humans, but never really conversed with them. That's what made Yuki so strange; she was snow in a sea of summer. Something cold in a pool of heat.

Ayako was only a few years younger in grade school. She struggled with reading, which was something of a disgrace for one as fluent as Yuki. It annoyed the two of them greatly that they could be so different despite the same familial bloodline.

Perhaps that was why Yuki didn't care. Or maybe it wasn't that she didn't care; maybe she didn't _want _to.

Kicking a stray pebble into the snow, Yuki proceeded to the next street cross-walk.

'_Only one more block.'_ She thought. Ayako would only go so far as to her elementary school to make snowmen. She wasn't as bold as another sister in the family – the eldest. But that was a story for another time.

Quickly approaching the metal gates to the school, Yuki could see Ayako preparing to sustain the hit of a snowball. Playing with her were two rowdy looking boys; she never was one to play with girls. She called them "doll-like damsels with too many bows to play rough."

Yuki could only partially agree. She'd floated between the "doll-like" stage and the passive tom-boy phase through her years. It'd left her out of place in middle school.

Unsurprising when a person is so quiet. Not shy; quiet.

Watching in preparation for her sister's squeal, Yuki waited for the ball to make contact. She knew that once the cries started, she'd actually have to demonstrate some sort of sister care.

How annoying.

But it didn't. The ball didn't. It didn't make contact. _At all._

It _moved right back at the other boys._

Yuki scrunched up her face in confusion. '_What on earth . . .'_

Walking over to where Ayako was located, Yuki saw what had happened, or rather, _who._

It was a boy, about as tall as she was – which was not very – with light, sky blue hair and a matching pair of eyes. A shadow in a sea of snow.

_Kuroko._


End file.
